


I'm Yours

by Gabri



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (2010), Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: AU, Body Paint, God!Jack, Light Bondage, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Older!Hiccup, Ritual Sex, Virgin Sacrifice, this is just 4k of pointless smut there's no plot or accuracy here ;;orz, very light;;, virgin sacrifice au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-28
Updated: 2013-11-28
Packaged: 2018-01-02 20:56:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1061540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabri/pseuds/Gabri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It startles him to see a human shape on his altar tonight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Yours

Jack has come to expect a lot of things when the going got tough for the little isle of Berk. Not that he ever asked for any of it, but then there it was, a desperate pile of lavish riches from a Viking tribe who often found themselves with no other power to turn to. Jack's found his altar weighed down with treasures and trophies of every kind, golden goblets and strings of pearl, fat sheep and yak and once upon a time, even dragons. They had offered him a Monstrous Nightmare on once occasion, weighed down with strings of silver and thick, polished chains. It had taken a while to break them, and Jack had to let the furious creature go over another hilltop, cursing under his breath as the frightened animal bucked wildly in panic at the unexpected chill of his hand.

Things are different now, of course - less violent, not quite as barbaric, though he supposes that's owed at least in part to a certain young Chief-to-be. It's not that he _minds_ the blatant worshiping, exactly - it was actually quite nice, all that attention! - but then nobody likes bloodstains on their clothes, right? At least the jewels he can wear, the goblets can be filled with wine, and any food though wholly unnecessary is an understandable gesture.

So it startles him to see a human shape on his altar, tonight.

He knew it was only a matter of time until another offering. The drums of war have been too loud, beating a wild rhythm in the night air until even under cover of cloud and storm, Jack can ignore it no longer. Shrouded in winter wind and grumbling under his breath, he follows the sound of voices and the sweet smell of incense and sure enough, there it is, his lonely chamber on the peak of the highest, coldest mountain, drifting in plumes of smoke and the blink of hopeful candles.

The Vikings themselves don't linger at the mountain this time - they are kept to their houses, leaving his little hall of prayer all but empty. It's unusual, private and for the subject at hand, unusually secretive. Jack lingers invisible at the high, stone ceiling, staring at the white-cloaked human shape sitting atop the stone slap beneath him and without even meaning to, looking for signs of blood.

The sacrifice is bound, at least to some degree. He can see a thin silver chain sneaking underneath the pale linen, heavy around a delicate white ankle. There's a peek of fingers showing through, clenching nervously, and the recognizable shape of a head beneath the veil. He can see it breathing (obviously - it couldn't be looking around like that if it were dead, now, could it?) and there's a level of alertness there that makes him think it's not even drugged. So far, so good.

Really, he'd have gladly accepted more gold or prayer...or heck, even a song or two in exchange for assistance in battle. Jack remembers the Monstrous Nightmare and grimaces - it could have been worse, he reminds himself. His hall is nearly black, lit with the glow of golden candles but dark about the edges like a waking dream. The area around the sacrifice is lit the best, leaving it's silvery, draping shape in halo of warmth. Hesitantly, Jack allows himself to take form - first his eyes and face, then his hands, solidifying in the darkness to his winter-white self, still the barest bit translucent but tangible enough to be recognized. He ruffles his cloak about himself as an afterthought - it's an impressive thing, deep blue and woven with elegant lines of frost, but he won't need any more than that to strike an impressive figure. Naked from the waist up and shimmering coldly, his supernatural presence is more than enough to command respect.

And so Jack touches upon the floor noiselessly just some ways behind the altar, staff in hand, ready to inspect his gift.

When the gift in question turns it's-- no-- _his_ head.

And smiles.

"Hey, Jack."

One moment regal and radiating elemental power, the next open-mouthed and stammering, a noise of utter astonishment wretches itself from Jack's throat before he can contain himself.

It can't be--

" _You?_ "

The last time he's seen the Chief-to-be, he was seventeen and growing fast. It's been a year - maybe two? Time flies when you're an immortal - but Jack had no idea just how _much_ he had grown, how all the awkward angles had smoothed over with hints of new muscle, the roundness of his face gone angular and handsome, the scared line of his smile now more rounded with confidence and certainty. It's like a slap to the face, seeing him so closely and so completely after only catching glimpses these last few years, peeks of him darting through the sky in a blur of dragons wings, bustling about with townsfolk flanking him like giddy fans.

"Good to see you, too, your Almighty Frostiness." Hiccup starts sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"I," Jack stumbles. "You...you're..." He nearly forgets who is the God and who is the human, standing there before the figure facing him so carelessly upon white marble. He's draped in white, head to toe, hidden beneath the long folds of fabric, but Jack thinks - _knows_ \- that he must be naked underneath because the candlelight lends a translucent wash to the fabric and his skin is - his _skin--_

It's like there's a fire lit from within and it's just warm, tan, gold and shining and freckled and at this rate Jack won't be able to form a complete sentence let alone make sense of the situation.

Hiccup shifts as the silence draws out. "...well...?"

"Uhhh." Jack tries again.

Hiccup's lower lip is smudged with red, a little spot of dye that leaves his mouth looking full and glossy and practically edible. Hiccup bends his head uncertainly and the veil over his hair edges away enough for Jack to follow the lines of more color painting his cheek, berry-red streaks of war paint. A single stripe of it smudged prettily over his forehead like a delicate mockery of a crown. He can just make out the brush lines, where someone must have painstakingly traced over not hours before.

"But..." Jack whispers weakly. "But...why?"

Hiccup cocks his head, eyes dancing with amusement. Jack's only ever remembered them as green but in this new light he can even see gold needled through like pinpricks of sunlight. "Well," he drawls slowly, the curve of his smile taking an apologetic twist, and Jack stares because that red mouth and the peek of a pink tongue beneath are utterly hypnotic - "An offering was due, you see, and given the circumstances..."

"Circumstances?" Jack repeats hazily, daring a step closer. Hiccup's eyes flicker over his body - his naked chest, the frost glistening on his skin - and tenses visibly in a way that has nothing to with fear.

"You know," he murmurs awkwardly. "Hard times. Winter approaching. Time...passing."

Jack scours his brain to recall what sort of hardships could warrant this. Tough times are aplenty in Berk. It could be anything.

"I'm nineteen now." Hiccup adds.

_Oh._

"And...ahah, funny thing - we haven't actually seen each other in a long time. What with the dragons all moving in, trying to avoid war, Dad's been going on about the duties of a Chief and I'm getting...well, not-so-little-as-I- _was_ , I guess you could say..."

It's true.

The last time they shared a full day together, Hiccup was sixteen and Jack was fully lit in the blaze of a brilliant snowstorm, pushing against a Night Fury's wings with Hiccup shrieking laughter and playful dares and chasing him all the way through.

Before that, fifteen, with Hiccup bright-eyed and tucked against his knee, cheeky through the mask of reverence and bursting unafraid with questions. Warm, flesh hands folding into his own with all the awkward eagerness of youth...

Before that, fourteen and only just accustomed to his limp, with the God of Winter Might nipping at his nose and his cheeks are red as roses, muttering sarcastic lines about fate and affection and _d'ya think we'll be seeing each other again? I know it's not my place or whatever, but I don't mind if you don't mind..._

Now his hands are bound with strips of white, loosely enough for Hiccup to slip them in a moment if he so desired. Instead he was only sitting there, freshly painted and bright with oil and light, sweat-shivering-cold, the most tempting offering he's ever been presented with.

Jack's head is spinning.

"I need a moment." he chokes out.

Hiccup's eyebrows creep up to his hairline.

"O...oh?" he squeaks slightly.

The Winter God sets down his staff, taking a step forward then going still, hand half-outstretched.

"It's not a new practice you know," Hiccup nettles in a soothing, self-conscious way. "We, ah, we don't really do the whole 'virgin sacrifice' thing anymore what with, you know, growing up a bit in the barbaric department - don't get me wrong, Berk is still barbaric enough as it is, but---"

" _Vir--_ " Jack breaks in, taking another step forward because _did he just say..._

Hiccup's skinny shoulders go tense from beneath their blanket of white.

"I...oh, gods..." his voice trends familiar, mortified territory. "I...I read you completely wrong, didn't I?" Hiccup shakes his head rapidly in tiny, jittery motions, nearly losing the veil in the process. "I just - I can lie, okay? I'll tell them nothing happened - well I'll tell them SOMETHING happened, I mean - but they won't know the difference it's not like anyone's, er -- _checking...._ "

Jack feels a blush creep up his neck a the word and it's meaning. Hiccup must notice, because his face goes scarlet enough for the stripes of paint to become camouflage. "Gods, that, that didn't sound right. I'm sorry! I'm so sorry. I really messed this one up. I just thought, I was pretty sure that you...you know... _wanted_...me."

Jack takes another step forward, getting a knee up on the altar to close the distance between them, moving as if in a dream. And Hiccup is babbling, hands flying rather comically in their loosely-bound state as he gestures and talks at a mile a minute.

"But clearly I was - I was wrong! So - so let's just -- we can just relax? And talk about..the weather! Or, uh, dragons! I just - I found this new species just last month, really fascinating breed, just a little smaller than my hand and instead of fire they shoot these poison darts out of their mou-"

Chilly hands slide beneath his jaw, angling it upward, and in one smooth motion he crushes their mouths together. The flush of paint is still wet, smearing against his own mouth as Hiccup gasps into the kiss, silenced by the trace of a cool tongue.

"...mouths..." Hiccup finishes in a glazed sort of way when they finally break apart, both hands clasped rather helplessly against Jack's chest.

"I do." Jack breathes out, digging his fingers into Hiccup's jaw with a kind of fire he didn't even know he could possess. "I do want you."

Green eyes go wide, then wider, face still dusted pink, mouth slightly open and wet with Jack's saliva.

"Uh..." he whispers, blinking. "...y-yeah?"

Jack presses their foreheads together, breathlessly laughing. " _Yeah?_ Are you kidding me?" His chest rises and falls, taken with excitement and disbelief as Hiccup sags gratefully against him. "How did you - how did this even...?"

"We wanted to offer you something, for luck." The fingers of his still-tied hands slide over Jack's chest in a hungry sort of way that suggests months of not years of wanting, waiting. "I did a little convincing to the village elders. As long as they thought I'd come back alive, they agreed it was a pretty decent offering. Our finest warrior's...uh, honor...in exchange for lending us Vikings the power of a God and all that." He nuzzles their noses together and Jack sighs, melting against his warmth. "Oh, and by the way? I'm considered our finest warrior now. You just got lucky, your Worshipfulness."

Jack kisses him again, hands edging beneath the sheet of white fabric, sliding it off his shoulders tenderly. "I _missed_ you." he breaths.

Hiccup shrugs the fabric the rest of the way off, letting it pool around his waist, and _fuck_ that's - that's - _**wow**_. Lean lines of muscle, pale skin, a Celtic band of red traced over one bicep in blood-red swipes, another diving low over his belly where the sheet gathers in folds over his hips. "I missed you, too." Hiccup murmurs, smiling brilliantly. There's still a gap between his teeth, no different from when they first met. "You have no idea."

Jack shakes his head. Hovers his fingers over tan hips, just short of pushing the fabric away entirely before tending to the more important matter of releasing his bonds. It's unnecessary - just a tug or two from Hiccup's end would send them collapsing, but there's a certain thrill in tugging free the coil of ribbon around his wrists that makes his skin feel like it's catching heat. Hiccup slides closer and the chain around his ankle clicks musically in the process.

"Was that really necessary?" Jack starts, eyeing the metal band as Hiccup starts putting his free hands to work exploring.

"Force of habit. Don't want the sacrifices running away before they can be claimed."

"You...er....wanna run?" Jack checks, heart sinking for a moment, because he needs to be extra sure, completely positive this isn't just some desperate stunt, that it's the same little Hiccup that sneakily pecked kisses on his cheek before he even had his growth spurt yet and then turned as red as a wildflower upon realizing what he had just done.

Hiccup's hands pass over his shoulders, his forearms, then take him by the wrists and guide his chilly fingers across the bony just of his hips, below the fabric, dipping over the curve of his ass. "Honestly, your all-high-and-mightyness," he murmurs flatly against Jack's throat, "I'd rather you just fuck me."

Well.

Shit.

"Uh....," Jack manages, squeezing his hands on impulse so that Hiccup moans and edges flush against him. "I can...I can do that."

"You think so?"

"I can **definitely** do that." Hiccup's nimble hands are already working hastily to untie his pants. He wants to say something - a warning or something, or a maybe just a plea, but in all honesty he's been hard since the moment he saw the red smudged on Hiccup's mouth and this has all been a long time coming anyway.

There's a rustle of fabric to join the sounds of crackling candle wicks and their own low, steady breathing. Hiccup's hands stop just short of touching.

"That's...huh...."

Jack bites back a groan at the sensation of a warm palm wrapping shamelessly, _finally_ around his cock. "...that's not exactly how I pictured it." he finishes awkwardly.

 _You *pictured* it?_ Jack wants to ask, but what comes out sounds more like "You--nnnnghoh _wowHic..._ " The mortal gives a snort in amusement before curling his fingers deliciously over the base, stroking experimentally upward.

"You actually blush _blue!_ " Hiccup's got the same learning-something-new brand of glee that Jack's heard him adopt before around rare dragons. The God strains into his grip, huffing out a flustered breath.

"What did you expect?" Jack says hotly. "I'm not exactly human?"

"I don't know." A pause. His eyes are very wide, almost awed, staring down between Jack's legs as if he's not quite sure how to begin. "You're kind of thick." he adds at last, voice climbing an octave.

 _Really?_ While he doesn't consider himself anything to sneer at, the realm of the gods isn't exactly the most modest place and there are some... _gifted_ deity's lounging about there in the ego-trip of thinking clothes are a little too good for them. But down here on planet Earth, Hiccup's mouth is hanging open. It's unbearably sexy the way he looks caught between gaping at it and gagging for it before Jack remembers that _oh, right: virgin._

"We'll go slow?" he suggests stupidly. Hiccup gives his head a little shake, the corner of his mouth twitching. Jack bites his lip and reaches for the sheet in his lap. "Can I..?"

"Yes? For Thor's sake, you don't have to go _that_ slow--"

Jack grins and yanks it aside. The paint continues down over his pelvis, languid lines all the way to his inner thighs. His arousal is full and pink, warm as the light of their remaining candles, and the shudder that ripples over his body when Jack takes him in hand is something of beauty.

"Shit," Jack hisses out as Hiccup presses closer, arching against him with a low, pleased sound. "Who even _painted_ you, Hic?"

"Of all the-- are you really going to ask me that right now?"

"It's a valid question!"

"For Thor's sake, nobody you _know._ " Hiccup inches into his lap, grasping their cocks together clumsily and leaving Jack's hands free to wander over his backside. He's slick with sweat and oil, more so than Jack expects. It takes a moment or two for the full implication of that to set in, but by the way Hiccup's gone awkwardly stiff against him, the other boy is just waiting for a comment.

"Are you...?"

"And again with the questions..." Hiccup presses his face into the hollow of Jack's throat where it burns there fiercely. "It's not considered...polite...to, you know, leave all the preparations to you. I'm supposed to be a gift after all..."

Jack slides a finger into him far too easily and Hiccup finishes his sentence in an surprised, throaty cry.

"Preparations." he repeats in disbelief, breath coming out short. It's almost too much. After all this time, they finally get a moment alone again - and that by itself would have been a gift - but here he is prettied up in ceremonial light, practically gift wrapped and already worked open for him. "I thought you were supposed to be a virgin!"

"Well, yeah, I am, I just - I thought I'd be easier if I--"

"So _you..?_ "

How long ago was he getting himself ready, dipping his fingers into oil and stretching himself open with Jack firmly in mind?

 _That's_ a metal image for later.

Or, hell, forever. He's got eternity after all.

" _Yes_ it was _me_." Hiccup snaps. "Odin's ghost Jack, do you think I'd let anyone else put their hands--? N-nevermind, will you just - nnngn, just, yeah, do that again..."

Jack presses another finger in, wide-eyed and flushed as Hiccup squirms back against him like determinedly, his mouth a sweet, round _o_ of pleasure. A third finger gets more of a wince, a pink face pressed against his collar as Jack marvels at the wonder of him, the fire of his skin and the tightness of his ass and the prospect of more, soon, _now._

"I want to..."

"Yeah, just -- let me just--"

Hiccup untangles their limbs to lie eagerly on his back, the clasp around his ankle clicking metallically as he stretches out over the altar, looking every inch the desperate, worshipful offering he's intended himself to be. Jack settles between his thighs, grasping his swollen cock in one fist and guiding it clumsily to the slick, waiting heat.

"Remember, slow?" Hiccup presses tight with one heel, the less-heated bite of his prosthetic foot mismatched against his skin, and Jack can't help the curse that spills from his lips as he watches the head of his cock disappear into Hiccup's body.

"Fuck...!" He wails as Jack sinks in, fingers scrambling on the marble and chest heaving as he tries to adjust. Jack stares wide-eyed at the paint gleaming on his golden skin, trying his best count in threes or remember age-old lists or just, fuck it -- _anything_ to keep him from coming too soon.

He's _tight._ Tighter than Hiccup's fingers could manage, and a thousand times hotter. Jack's dizzy with the intensity of it, the sweetness of being buried to the hilt inside this gasping, gorgeous mortal, the only one that's caught his eye since he's given Berk his blessing. His hips twitch, fingers sinking into Hiccup's pink skin hard enough to leave bruises. "Hic..." he whines.

"Wait, gimme a sec..."

"You're doing great..." Trailing off helplessly and quickly busying his mouth by kissing Hiccup's furrowed brow. How can he _wait?_ Hiccup takes few steadying breaths. Jack fumbles with a hand between his thighs in the mean time, grasping his cock and squeezing, and filthy sound that earns him is almost as good as the way he tightens up in surprise.

"Ah-!"

"Now?" Jack pleads.

"Yes, _now!_ Get on with it, will you?"

It's Valhalla. It's paradise, a haven with Hiccup's flushed face and straining voice. Jack can feel himself unraveling, coming undone like melting ice as he gathers the other boy tight in his arms and fucks him slow and deep, lost in the searing heat of him, the friction of his body and the sloppy painted mess of his kisses and his glowing candle skin and his groans.

They get a rhythm going, in and out until Hiccup's breathy moans become loud and shameless and his nails dug gullies into Jack's skin. Thank the stars for Viking stubbornness, because he doesn't know if he could stop now. The marble must be rough on his back - they should have put a sheet underneath them or something, but Hiccup doesn't seem to care. He's demanding, inviting, holding Jack to him so crushingly that the God wonders if he may lose form entirely and sink into his bones like a winter wind and never ever come back out.

There's no deeper he can go, no closer he can imagine getting. Hiccup's legs spread as far as they can go, drawing him in for more, and somewhere amongst the sweat-slick slide of fingers and teeth Jack hears himself say, _"mine, mine"_ , unsure if he's demanding or questioning until Hiccup growls back, _"yeah, I'm yours."_

Neither of them last long after that.

It must take him ages to come back to Earth, because the next concrete thing he can feel is the shuffle of warm hands carding through his hair, lips on his cheek, an amused little scuffle of a laugh as Hiccup nuzzles his face like one of his beloved dragons.

"That was..." Jack starts, somewhat slurred. He feels like an puddle of melted ice. Hiccup snickers and sighs, squirming a bit beneath him so that Jack is suddenly very, very aware of how they're both still locked together.

"Pretty great." Hiccup decides.

"Awesome." Jack corrects him, dazed.

A gentle kiss to the lips is his response. Jack remembers the paint and wonders vaguely if it's smeared across his own white face yet. Maybe that's why Hiccup's chest is trembling so much. His laughter always started somewhere low in his belly, spreading out to his shoulders and arms like a ripple in water.

"You're looking pretty Godly, oh-holy-one." he teases, poking a finger at Jack's cheek.

Jack manages a smile and sneaks a hand underneath them, giving his ass a rough squeeze. "You're looking pretty Godly yourself."

"You know, if my offering pleased your all-powerful-chillyness, it might have to turn into a necessary ritual?"

"Nnngh..."

"Wouldn't want to miss out on our winter blessings."

" _Hiccup_."

"And if the great God Jokul commands it, who are we to resist?"

"When did you get so..." _Hot? Incredible? Completely, shamelessly bold?_ It was always there, really, he just never had the luxury to claim all of it before. Being a God really did have it's perks. Or more accurately, being in this particular mortal's affections. "So...uh...?"

"It came with the growth spurt." Hiccup hums coyly, giving his nose a nip in the typical Jack Frost style for good measure. "Besides, I learned from the best."


End file.
